


Telanadas

by Zisk



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Cullen, Cullen learns Elven, Dorian is a Good Friend, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Lyrium Withdrawal, Mage!Inquisitor, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Sassy Varric, Sided with Templars, Team-related betting pool, mage!Lavellan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-05 13:17:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15864381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zisk/pseuds/Zisk
Summary: The keeper's first of clan Lavellan expected to do a little spying and return home, not get thrust into the middle of a fledgling Inquisition scrambling to save the world. With no other options, she throws herself into her new role and finds a life (and a family) outside her home.Or; a series of moments from my Lavellan!Mage play-through.(fair warning: unfinished play-through, so no guarantees this will ever be finished?)





	1. Chapter 1

Lavellan stalked up the path to the Chantry. Haven spread out around her, the clang of the blacksmith mingling with the clash of the troops practicing. Voices swirled around her, people parted before her (if they leaned towards their neighbors, whispering behind their hands as she passed, they could hardly be blamed). She glanced at the fire, making eye contact with Varric. Jerking her head towards the large building was enough to bring him to her side, he kept her silent company as they fetched Solas. One look at her face, and he fell in next to Varric.  
As they got closer to the emotional center of Haven, they watched her shoulders tighten. She straightened her back, her strides getting shorter and sharper, her body radiating tension. Glancing around her, Varric saw the reason for her sudden change.  
Chancellor Roderick was standing a couple of feet away from Cullen, gesticulating broadly. They weren’t close enough for Varric to make out what he was saying but, based on the way Lavellan’s ears twitched and Solas’ frown, he could hazard some guesses. Cullen, as ever, remained motionless as he watched the shorter man rave.  
Their approach made him look away from Roderick, a tiny smile flitting across his face. He turned, Roderick dismissed, and took a couple steps towards them. Lavellen walked to him, inclining her head in greeting. His shoulders dipped towards her, not quite a bow.  
“I’ll keep the peace here while you talk to the Chantry in Val Royeaux.” He gave her a wry smile, Chancellor Roderick’s angry squawk underscoring his words. She blinked, startled, before giving him a genuine smile.  
“Thank you. I will not tarry.”  
He nodded, returning his attention to the Chancellor and directing the yelling man’s attention elsewhere. His words, more accusations of Lavellan, more predictions of failure, washed over her.  
Varric watched her shoulders lock as she turned and lead the way to the door of the Chantry. He tipped his head, musing on how her shoulders had loosened, just a little, at the former-templar’s words. Of everyone here, he hadn’t expected her to relax around Cullen.  
A tiny smile started at the corners of his mouth.  
*  
Val Royeaux had not gone exactly to plan.  
Lavellan shut the door to the building they had given her (she was hardly in it, between her travels and the meetings and helping where she could around Haven, it was transitionary space for her). She tipped her head back, taking a deep breath. The air was cold and crisp, carrying scents from the blacksmith and the cook fires. She shook her head.  
They had no Chantry backing, weren’t going to get it, and the templars had disappeared. The rebel mages had reached out, at least, and now they were up a court enchanter with political machinations and an unhinged elf with potentially infinite contacts. It could have gone worse.  
She made her way through the town, checking in with the shops and the quartermaster. Varric had some thoughts on the properties of red lyrium (and some very precise suggestions of what to do with it, all of them involving a fair amount of explosive powder), Solas got caught up in explaining the personhood of spirits and telling stories about venturing with them in the fade. Dennett had found a new horse, Harritt had deconstructed some new armors.  
Lavellan was tired by the time she turned her attention to the training grounds. Cassandra was off to the side, testing the strength of the dummies they had set up. The one she was working on now seemed to be reaching the end of its life. Cullen was standing in the middle of a maelstrom of sparring recruits, shouting orders and corrections.  
The Herald was half-way to him before she realized she was moving. She blinked, tipping her head in consideration as she walked. She was in the middle of all of this, like it or not, and it made sense that she would check in with the group of people running it. Cullen had recently made his way down to take over training and it would irresponsible to not check in with him. She wanted to make sure everything was going smoothly. That was it. She didn’t want to just hear his voice, that would be silly.  
She threaded her way carefully to Cullen, nodding to him and the lieutenant consulting him. Cullen turned his attention to her, his eyes lighting up.  
He gestured to the people around them. “We’ve gotten a lot more recruits- locals and some pilgrims. You've made quite the impression, dropping out of the sky like that.” His faint smile was teasing.  
Lavellan tipped her head, smirking. “At least I got everyone’s attention.”  
“That you did.” He chuckled, motioning for her to follow him a little further away from the clang of swords and shields. “I joined in Kirkwall, after the mage rebellion. I saw the chaos first hand.” A soldier materialized behind him, handing him a report before vanishing into the crowd. He glanced at it and back to Lavellan. “When Cassandra offered me a chance to help fix things, I left the templars to join her. Now it seems we've found something much worse.”  
“If you left the templars for this you must believe we will succeed.” Lavellan kept her voice light, curious.  
“I do.” His was firm. “The Chantry has lost control, and they argue over a new divine while this rift hangs in the sky. The inquisition can work while they cannot. There’s so much we can-“ He cut himself off, looking at Lavellan ruefully. “Forgive me, you did not come here for a lecture.”  
“No.” Lavellan tipped her head, a smile blossoming across her face. “But if you have one prepared, I’d love to hear it.”  
Cullen laughed, a deep heart-felt sound that warmed Lavellan’s heart. “Another time perhaps.”  
Lavellan raised an eyebrow, her smile becoming gently teasing.  
Cullen colored faintly, glancing away from her. The twist to her lips left him at a loss for words, and he felt his face heating more as he realized it. “I- ah…”  
He was sparred coming up with a response, another soldier appearing beside him with a report. Cullen excused himself, following after the man.  
Lavellan watched him walk away, crossing her arms against the sudden chill. She was lost in a swirl of thoughts, ranging from the influx of recruits to the way Cullen’s fur ruff moved in the breeze to the expedition to the Hinterlands leaving in the morning. She didn’t hear Cassandra step up beside her.  
“You seem lost in your thoughts, herald.” Lavellan jumped at Cassandra’s voice, whirling to face the smirking Seeker.  
“She’va dhal! Don’t sneak up on me!” Lavellan pressed a hand to her chest, scowling.  
Cassandra’s face broke into a grin. “Looking over the new recruits?”  
Lavellan paused, then nodded. She had not come over here only to talk to Cullen, after all, she was here for the recruits.  
Cassandra leaned towards her, delighting in pointing out the different training techniques being used. Lavellan smiled softly at the stout woman next to her, asking questions where Cassandra’s explanations needed them, and silently contemplated the shifting nature of her relationships.  
*  
Lavellan frowned as she looked up at the court enchanter, the taller woman’s impeccable appearance stirring the same unsettled admiration that it usually did in the elven herald. Dalish were wild, dirt against their skin and wind in their hair. She had a hard time wrapping her mind around Vivienne’s ability to keep her appearance so… pristine.  
She had a hard time wrapping her mind around the mage’s devotion to the circles, too, and it was fast becoming an on-going argument.  
Vivienne’s gaze was cool, her hands moving through the dance of gestures chosen years ago for their effectiveness. “Magic is naturally occurring, yes, but that doesn't make it any less dangerous. Not unlike fire, anyone who forgets is burned.”  
“That doesn't mean circles are the only option. Dalish don’t have templars, and we do just fine.” Lavellan pointed out, crossing her arms. Maybe the Dalish way wasn’t the best path for humans, but it proved there were other ways. There were options.  
Vivienne hummed, raising an eyebrow. “Tell me, then, what happens to children not chosen as a Keeper’s apprentice?”  
The herald scowled, seeing the direction Vivienne was going to steer this. “They are sent to another clan.”  
“And when those clans already have two apprentices? What then?”  
Lavellan closed her eyes, taking a centering breath. She understood having only a pair of students for each Keeper, making sure they had the attention they needed, but it had never sat well with her. She’d wondered if there was another way for the Dalish, too, but the Dread Wolf would howl before she’d let a shem mage disparage her home.  
“At least they die free.” She snapped. Vivienne sniffed, frowning, and Lavellan glared.  
“As you will, my dear.” Vivienne turned back to her table and Lavellan stalked out of the chantry.  
She took a deep breath of the cool air, closing her eyes as she tipped her head up towards the sun.  
The conversation with Vivienne left a sour taste in her mouth and her thoughts jumbled. She made a bee-line for Solas, seeking out the calming presence of the other mage. If anyone could help her sort through her thoughts, it would be another elf (and Mythal help her if she tried to seek out Sera for it).  
“Lethallan.” Solas called as she got closer, smiling softly. Lavellan sighed, relaxing at the familiar sound of the words.  
They stood together in silence for a moment before Lavellan tipped her head. “Tell me, Solas, if you did not grow up amongst the Dalish, what do you think of us?”  
Solas frowned, thinking. “You… try.” He sighed at Lavellan’s expression. “I walk the fade, I see things as they were once were and the Dalish… have forgotten much.”  
Lavellan bristled slightly, surprised and hurt. “Oh?”  
He gestured, searching the for the words. “You are like… children, acting out a story you heard long ago.”  
She inhaled sharply, scowling. “How could we be expected to remember it all, when so much of it has been destroyed?”  
Solas tipped his head in acknowledgement. “I’ll grant you that, but you have so much wrong.”  
“And your journeys in the fade have taught you everything there is to be about being an elf, I suppose?”  
Solas nodded, quite serious. “Yes.”  
Lavellan made a frustrated noise, throwing her hands up and stalking down the stairs. She felt more frustrated, more conflicted, than before. She was out the gate and down the stairs before she realized it, the frozen lake spreading out before her and the clang of swords drowning out her thoughts.  
Her feet moved almost of their own will, dancing through the sparring recruits and depositing her next to the commander. He gave her a nod, finishing the report he was reading.  
“Herald.”  
“Commander.”  
“To what do I owe this visit?”  
She hesitated for a moment. “Tell me of the templars.”  
He looked up, eyebrows raised. “The templars?”  
“Dalish do not have them. If we are to seek them out, I feel I should know something about them. Who better to instruct me than a former templar?”  
Cullen gestured to Lysette and the herald rolled her eyes.  
“Lysette is a templar, she’s biased.”  
“Lysette has forsaken the order to repay her life-debt to you.” Cullen observed.  
“She’s sill a recruit, she doesn’t have the…” Lavellan gestured to the commander. “You’ve served with them longer, you understand them better.”  
Cullen nodded. “Fair. You know the templars are an order, formed by the Chantry to maintain the peace where mages are concerned?”  
Lavellan nodded. “That’s about all I know of them.”  
“We… They are expected to watch over the mages, but also keep the mages from harm.” He glanced at the herald. “At least, they’re supposed to. This war…” He shook his head, sighing. “They are given lyrium, to better help with watching the mages. The order requires devotion, once you are a templar all other paths cease for you.”  
Lavellan crossed her arms, tipping her head and leaning back. “Do templars take vows, then? ‘I swear to the Maker to watch the mages’ and all that?” She dropped her voice, trying to imitate a burly templar, and Cullen snorted.  
He shook his head, looking out over the recruits. “There’s a vigil. You’re meant to be at peace, but your life is about to change. When it’s over you devote yourself to the service, you’re given your first lyrium draft. After that, our lives belong to the Maker.”  
“A life of service and sacrifice…” Lavellan paused, smiling wickedly. “Are you also expected to give up physical temptations, then?” Cullen turned to her, startled, and a blush crept up his neck. Perhaps it was unkind, but watching the commander become flustered was quickly becoming a source of amusement for the herald.  
“Physical? Why- Ah- Why would you… That’s not… expected. Some choose to give up more but it’s not… required?” He glanced away, then back at her. His blush deepened.  
Lavellan enjoyed the color rising on his cheeks, the way his voice changed. She had no personal interest in the matter, obviously, she was just playing. Playing was fine. “Have you?”  
His face went from pink to red. “Me? I… uhm… no, I’ve taken no such vows.” He inhaled, the next words came out in a rush. “Maker’s breath, can we speak of anything else?”  
Lavellan dipped her head, hiding her smile. “You grew up in Ferelden?”  
“Near Honnleath. I was transferred to Kirkwall shortly after the blight, this is the first time I’ve been back.” He clung to the subject change, desperately, and launched himself into recounting tales of his siblings.  
If he noticed how Lavellan relaxed as he talked, kept asking questions to hear more stories, he didn’t comment on it.


	2. Chapter 2

Cullen’s gut had done a strange dance when the herald and her escort returned with the templars. The letter she’d written explaining what had happened at Therinfal had reached Haven days ago, he thought he knew what to expect.  
It soared at the sight of her returning, marching templars in tow. It dropped into his shoes, though, when Varric found him for just long enough to pull him aside and tell him a quick story about an envy demon turning the herald’s mind into a trap for her. The report had mentioned the demon, in detail, but had glossed over that interaction (not that she’d really explained it in any depth to Varric either, he’d over-heard a hushed discussion between her and Solas a few nights into the trip back to Haven (when Solas had turned it to pontificating about the shift from spirit to demon, Varric had snuck back into his tent), but the dwarf had pestered Leliana about Curly enough that he figured if anyone would understand, it would be their faithful commander).  
Cullen’s heart ached at the thought, the sympathy and kinship he felt for the herald over that interaction grew in his chest like a shade-blooming flower. She was a mage, marginally better equipped to handle the tricks of Fade-bound creatures, but no one walked away from that unaffected.  
His eyes were on her when she followed Cassandra into the war room. He watched how she walked (confident), where she looked (in their eyes, although he caught her glancing at his throat and quickly away), how she spoke (she sounded wearier). She seemed tired but sound, and Cullen felt a swell of pride for her strength.  
Surprised, he shoved it back down. She was the herald, one of his partners in this infant inquisition, nothing more.  
They were discussing the templars, and the plan for the breach, when the young man appeared on the table.  
Cullen and Cassandra moved in perfect unison, yelling in surprise and drawing their swords. Lavellan threw herself between them, almost throwing herself bodily over the man, yelling. Cullen had not thought his stomach could drop further but watching her hand on the man’s shoulder sent it into the floor, until her words registered.  
“-saved my life from that envy demon, I never would have gotten out without his help!” She yelled.  
“He is a demon!” Cassandra roared as Josephine pulled back. Leliana cocked her head, leaning closer.  
“He’s a spirit, he wants to help!” Lavellan helped him down, scowling at Cassandra. “His name is Cole.”  
Cullen sheathed his sword, Cassandra did the same a moment later. He protested Cole’s presence, once, before giving up and letting the women argue themselves into a compromise.  
When they reached one, agreeing to keep Cole and declaring the meeting over, he made his way to the templar encampment. Ser Barris met him, the broad smile and the friendly clap on the shoulder didn’t quite hide the haunted look in his eyes. They bent heads, running through numbers and needed supplies, and Cullen directed him to take his lists to Leliana before he made his way back to the training grounds.  
It was good to see templars again. It was still soon enough to hurt.  
A few hours later, enough time to clean up from the journey and grab something to eat, Lavellan wandered up to him. She snaked her way between sparring teams, gracefully avoiding collision.  
He nodded to her, signing off on the orders one of Leliana’s men had brought to him. The spy gave the herald a quick half-bow before vanishing into the crowd.  
Lavellan crossed her arms, watching the recruits. Cullen looked over them before glancing at her.  
“I don’t trust Cole.” He said mildly, gauging her reaction. He wasn’t sure how much familiarity she’d allow him but based on their prior talks he was willing to bet there was some.  
She snorted, quirking a tiny smile. “He saved my life.”  
“He’s a spirit.” Cullen watched her face, which stayed neutral. The herald shrugged. "He can appear and disappear at will."  
“So can Leliana's scouts, and we haven't thrown them out.” She observed.  
“I suppose.” Cullen hesitated, searching for something to keep her there. “The templars are eager to help.”  
She snorted. “They’d better, after what I went through to get them.”  
“A demon in your mind.” Cullen sighed, shaking his head. “It takes a strong will to fight that off. I am… glad you are well.” He flushed slightly, glancing away. He wanted to tell her, wanted to commiserate, but the words had been so long buried that he couldn’t summon them now.  
Lavellan’s lips curved up at the corners and she nodded her head slowly. Her thoughts were far away and they stood together without talking for a time, watching the recruits train.  
*  
Varric wandered down the stairs, the ring of steel on steel assaulting his ears from the training ground. He stayed close to the wall, avoiding Cassandra’s gaze, and gave Krem a nod of greeting. The mercenary returned it silently, watching him.  
Bull smiled when he saw the dwarf. “The great storyteller has come down from his fire! To what do I owe this honor?”  
Varric chuckled. “I’m working on a new book, and there’s a rumor going around that you’re Ben Hassarath.”  
“Rumor, hell.” Bull chuckled. “I am.”  
Varric blinked, before recovering his smooth smile. “So, as a spy, aren’t you not supposed to say that you’re a spy?  
Bull shrugged. “What’s the point? Leliana would figure it out sooner or later, and I’m working for you all to get that hole in the sky closed up. Lying to your employers is bad business.”  
Varric tipped his head. “I suppose I can’t fault that logic.”  
“So, this new book of yours. It wouldn’t happen to involve subterfuge and secrets, would it?” Bull grinned.  
“It might, a little.” Varric grinned back.  
“I don’t suppose you’d be looking for a spy to vet ideas, then?”  
“I may be.”  
“And you’re not asking our resident spymaster because…?” Bull trailed off teasingly.  
Varric snorted. “Are you kidding? Leliana would assume I’d turned coat and have me hung, if I asked too many questions.”  
Bull laughed. “She is a little… intense.”  
“Are all spymasters like that?” Varric asked carefully.  
Bull shook his head. “They all work a little different, even if they all work the same.”  
“You?”  
“What about me?” Bull leaned back, obviously enjoying the conversation.  
“Are you considered a ‘spymaster’?”  
He shrugged. “I suppose.”  
“Nothing escapes your eye?”  
“Nothing.”  
Varric paused, a wicked smile forming.  
Bull tipped his head, derailing the dwarf with a question. “This new book, is it all spying?”  
“It’s a lot of spying, but there’s more to it. Political intrigue, a war, you know.”  
“I hear your name associated with a lot of romance books.”  
Varric snorted, nodding. “That is accurate, yes.”  
“Is there romance in this one?”  
“There is, but the characters don’t know it yet.”  
“Is it… Oh, what was that one story…” A grin slowly spread across Bull’s face. “A woman thrown into leadership and her devoted guardsman?”  
Varric hesitated before grinning back. “Oh, you’ve heard this one? Where they’re both too dense to notice?”  
“Heard it? Hell.” Bull gestured behind the dwarf. Varric turned, looking out across the training grounds.  
Lavellan was standing next to Curly, their heads bent together as they conferred over a report.  
Varric started to laugh. “You’ve found me out. Don’t tell them, please, I need to know how this plays out.”  
“Tell them? Fuck that, I’ve got fifty gold riding on them not figuring it out for at least a few months.”  
The dwarf’s face lit up. “There’s a betting pool on this? What’re the odds at?”  
Bull grinned, sketching out the parameters. He liked the dwarf, liked his wry wit and his sharp eyes, and he was looking forward to working with him.  
This was shaping up to be a fun assignment.  
*  
Cullen couldn’t swallow past the lump in his throat, watching Lavellan walk out the door of the chantry. He watched her step into the darkness, lit by the flickering light of the flames, fought the urge to run out after her. To drag her back into the light. To another way, any other way but this madness. Then, with a blur of motion, she was gone.  
Her last words to him had been a command, ‘get them to safety’. With a single minded-urgency, he followed her order. Those who could run helped those who couldn’t, the chantry sisters who had come with Mother Giselle shepherded children. They formed a chain, moving as fast as they could into the mountains.  
It was almost a relief, firing off the flare. They were far enough, they would be safe, there was still a chance. Cullen raised himself onto the balls of his feet, peering into the night, desperately seeking anything. A sign. Soundlessly, he mouthed a prayer that was more wish.  
And then the mountain came down.  
They waited as long as they dared before moving forward. When she had not stepped out of the darkness, Leliana (so much older, so much harder than the face he remembered from the circle tower a lifetime ago) rested a hand on his shoulder. Just for a moment, but it was long enough.  
He gave the order. They left.  
It was slow going through the snow, but they put miles between themselves and the horrors of that last night in Haven. Cullen filled his waking hours with keeping everyone moving, and if the memory of Haven haunted his dreams at least they weren’t any worse than they’d already been. He tried not to think, not to wonder if Lavellan was lost in the snow. If, even now, she’d survived the archdemon only to freeze to death. If she was buried under the mountain, her bones never to see daylight again. If the trebuchet had been her last act, the archdemon crushing her out of spite.  
It was better by far to focus on being steel-backed for the refugees, to give his wandering mind no quarter.  
Easier said than done, of course. Every night after they’d camped he built a fire as far outside the gathering of tents as he dared and waited. His mind twisted every story it could come up with; she was dead and buried, she was just a few yards away and would be there in a moment, she’d died screaming in fire, she’d died breathless under the snow, she was just outside the light. She was coming, delayed by the landslide but now only moments away, and she would throw her arms around him and-  
He shook his head roughly. She had faced down a magister and his pet archdemon (they had been able to see that much from the mountain), she was more than just the herald now. She would never…  
He sighed as Solas took his customary perch next to him, the two men nodding in acknowledgement before the elf closed his eyes and did whatever it was that he did every night. With Solas’ tendency to walk the fade, Cullen was happy to let him do whatever he thought would help bring Lavellan back. He’d try anything.  
Time passed, long enough for the chill to settle in his bones. Solas stood finally, stretching out his joints, and with a nod made his way back to camp. Cassandra passed him, coming to a stop next to Cullen.  
“You must get sleep, commander.” Her Nevarran accent had gotten thicker amidst the stress.  
Cullen shook his head. “She’s out there, I know it.”  
“And she will find us, I have no doubts. But if you are to direct the refugees in the morning…” She trailed off, sighing. “I hope that she finds us soon.”  
They stayed together in silence for a short time, staring into the darkness, before Cullen sighed and stood. He scuffed out the fire, turning to follow Cassandra back to the camp.  
He was far enough away that he almost didn’t hear the sharp sound of something hitting the metal tripod in the fire pit. When the sound registered, his breath stopped in his chest. He whirled, wide-eyed.  
Lavellan was standing next to the fire pit, one hand on the tripod, swaying unsteadily.  
He yelled something, running to her and scooping her out of the snow. She didn’t fight, instead curling in against his chest and burrowing into his great coat. She was cold, much too cold, and he hurried as fast as he could without losing his balance in the snow.  
Her return breathed new life into Cullen, into all of them. The trek through the mountains was still hard but watching her scout ahead made it seem a little more bearable. Her finding Skyhold for them, a great fortress hidden by unforgiving mountains, seemed the only fitting continuation to her story. She came back from the dead, of course she would find a castle in the wilderness.  
By the time Cassandra suggested her as inquisitor, Cullen had already accepted that she was so far beyond him it was ludicrous.  
That was the way the stories went, right? An amazing woman rises to lead when the people need her most, and her loyal guardsman loves her silently from afar? He was almost sure Cassandra had that exact book in her pack somewhere, with his luck it was written by Varric.  
That was fine, though. He would dedicate himself to her cause, to her victory, because anything else came with the end of the world. He would not pine, would not allow his feelings to get in the way, he would just… love her.  
He'd almost made his peace with it when she appeared at his desk.  
He kept the reports brief, filling her in without bogging her down in details. She nodded thoughtfully, asking only a couple of questions. She made a joke about her new position and Cullen couldn’t help the compliment in his response. She’d chuckled, spinning it humorously, before pausing and looking up at him. Her expression was soft.  
“I’m glad we both made it out.” Her voice was tentative, testing.  
The air fled Cullen’s lungs and he forgot how to draw breath to replace it. “As am I.” He whispered, before looking away.  
She hesitated for a moment, watching him, before she stepped away. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed her arm. Just enough to stop her. She turned back to him, her look almost hopeful.  
The words were out of his mouth before he could consider them. “You could have… I will not allow the events at Haven to happen again. You have my word.”  
The smile that spread slowly across her face was like watching the sun come out from behind a cloud.  
‘So much for silent.’ He mused to himself as she walked away, hiding his blush behind the ruff of his coat.


	3. Chapter 3

Dorian was smug.  
Dorian was so smug, he was humming as he took the steps to the battlements two at a time. He was on a time limit, and the commander was going to be a problem. Which was fine, Dorian had planned for that.  
Dorian had planned for a lot of things.  
He nodded to the guardsmen coming out of the commander’s office before ducking inside. Cullen looked up from his desk, a look of surprise and confusion settling on his face at the sight of the mage.  
“It seems I’ve timed my visit between reports, how fortuitous.” Dorian smirked.  
“Dorian.” Cullen nodded, setting the report down. “To what do I owe this visit?”  
“Oh, you know.” Dorian drawled, wandering further into the room to peruse Cullen’s bookshelves. “I was talking with Varric about what there is to do around here. It gets so tedious, when we’re not galivanting across the countryside. He said there’s a chess board in the garden.”  
He heard Cullen’s soft, irritated sigh. “And what does that have to do with me?”  
“He mentioned you play.” Dorian glanced at the commander, before resuming looking at the bookshelf. He half pulled one out, looking speculatively at the cover before sliding it back. “I was hoping you had some suggestions for who I should challenge.”  
Cullen was silent for a moment before asking, confused, “Why wouldn’t you just ask me to play?”  
“Oh.” Dorian looked back over his shoulder, eyebrows drawn in concern. “I couldn’t ask you to play, you’re much too busy. And besides, with all this,” he fluttered his hands at the room, “when do you have time to practice? It wouldn’t be a fair match.”  
The calculated barb hit home. Cullen drew himself up, a slight scowl on his face, and flipped the report closed. “I’m sure Skyhold won’t catch fire if I take a few moments to beat you at chess. Come along, I know right where this board is located.”  
Dorian could barely hide his grin as he followed the commander down to the garden, keeping up a conversation that was only lightly speckled with jabs. Baiting the man had been so much easier than he’d worried, this was perfect.  
The board sat in the middle of a small gazebo, surrounded by vines and flowers. The air was heavily perfumed, the faint scent of elfroot under all the flowers. On the other side of the courtyard, the chantry sisters did whatever it was they were doing.  
Cullen pulled a box from under the table, flipping it open and setting up the pieces as Dorian regaled him with a terrible story about Sera and Lavellan from the last trip out (Sera had managed to miss shooting a bandit, instead hitting a wandering bear in the arse, and Lavellan had ended up riding the thing for a few terrifying moments after it had tried to corner her). Cullen nearly dropped the piece he was setting, half-way between horror and laughter.  
“You see what you’re missing?” Dorian grinned. “I’m sure Skyhold and commanding the troops is wonderful, but just think. You could be out with us; harassing the wildlife, meeting new people and promptly killing them when they try to kill us. Sera says she’s going to start riding Bull, like a portable tower? How could you miss that.”  
Cullen did laugh at that, dropping into one of the chairs and rubbing his face. “Maker, and we send you all out to represent us.”  
“The inquisition’s finest, that’s us.” Dorian chuckled, settling into the other chair.  
“As… enticing as your offer of non-stop hilarity and probable bodily harm sounds, I’m afraid I’ll have to pass. Rylen’s heart may give out if I try to hand him the reigns for long.” Cullen tipped his head, grinning. “And, as you’re about to find, my being in charge of troop movements has kept me quite sharp at this.”  
Dorian gestured to the board, Cullen made the first move, and they were off.  
They kept up a fairly lively banter as they played, alternating between good-natured jabs and story-telling. They were so focused, Lavellan was nearly inside the gazebo by the time they noticed her approach.  
Cullen half-stood, starting to panic at being caught shirking by the inquisitor. She held her hands up soothingly, laughing.  
“Don’t stop on my account.” She chuckled, walking over to lean on Dorian’s shoulder and study the board.  
“We’re nearly done anyway.” The mage sniffed, moving one of his pieces. He’d been playing carefully, trying to draw the game out long enough while leaving himself only a couple moves away from losing. He was rewarded when Cullen took the bait, beating him in three more moves.  
The commander grinned. “You see? Troop movements, I told you.”  
Dorian nodded, chuckling ruefully as he rose. “I see, commander. I’m glad you have something to keep you sharp.” He turned to Lavellan, planting a quick kiss on top of her head. “My lady, I must take my leave to lick my wounds in private.”  
Lavellan snorted, giving him a bemused look as he walked away.  
Dorian held his breath, listening intently.  
“I suppose I should get back to the reports. Unless you fancy a game?” Cullen’s voice drifted to him, followed by Lavellan’s assent.  
Dorian grinned, looking skyward. His plan had worked, Cullen had taken the bait of Lavellan appearing at the chessboard. Everything was going exactly right.  
He didn’t see the dwarf in the shadows until he was roughly pulled into them.  
“Andraste’s ass, sparkler, what do you think you’re getting at?” Varric hissed, scowling.  
Dorian blinked, startled. “Ah- what?”  
Varric threw a hand in the direction of the chessboard, raising his eyebrows.  
“Oh, don’t tell me you haven’t seen it?” Dorian quirked an eyebrow. Of everyone in Skyhold, Varric was the top of Dorian’s list for ‘people that have noticed those idiots fawning over each other’.  
“Of course I’ve seen it.” Varric almost sounded offended. “We’ve all seen it. There’s a betting pool, you’re interfering with my betting pool.”  
Dorian blinked again. “A… betting pool. On those two.”  
Varric nodded, eyebrows reaching his hairline in irritation.  
“I didn’t know.” Dorian apologized. “What are the odds at?”  
*  
Lavellan smiled as she sat. She hadn’t been expecting this when the page had shown up in her room with an invitation to meet Dorian in the library, or when Dorian had been replaced by a note instructing her to come to the garden. She was beginning to think it was a set-up, and with Dorian’s wink as he left she had some good evidence.  
Not that she’d complain. This was the most relaxed she’d seen Cullen since they’d gotten to Skyhold. He was leaning back, smiling and laughing as he told her stories about his childhood. She hadn’t thought he could get more handsome, but his easy smile suited him so much better than his usual frown.  
“When did you last see your siblings?” Lavellan asked, moving a piece before looking up at him.  
“Oh.” He paused, thinking. “Ages, and I don’t write as often as I should. I’m sure I’m in a world of trouble with them.”  
Lavellan half-heartedly glared at him. “Write to your family. Even just an ‘I’m still not dead’ letter.”  
“Is that an order?” He laughed, studying the board.  
She paused for a moment before nodding emphatically. “Yes. It is.”  
He moved a piece, looking up at her sheepishly. “Then I suppose I’ll have to. But, I warn you, if Mia shows up here to chew my ear off over it, that’s on you.”  
“I would be delighted to meet your sister.” The inquisitor teased. “If she gives you any warning please let me know, I’ll ask Josie to set up the nice dignitary rooms. The ones without the holes in the roof.”  
Cullen barked a laugh. “I thought the star-gazing holes were the nice rooms.”  
Lavellan laughed, making a move and looking up to study his face.  
He glanced up from studying the board, blushing under her scrutiny. “What about you, do you have any siblings in your… clan?”  
She looked sad for a moment before shaking her head with a smile. “Just my older brother. He’s one of the best hunters the clan has.” She chuckled softly.  
“There’s two of you?” Cullen feigned concern. “How has Thedas been surviving?”  
Lavellan snorted, watching him move a piece before reaching to move one of hers. “Quite handily, we’re not that similar.”  
“Oh, so he’s a quiet everyman who never gets into trouble?” Cullen raised a disbelieving eyebrow.  
She laughed. “Okay, maybe not so dissimilar. He’s training to lead the hunters.” She paused, sighing. “I was training under the keeper. We were going to lead the clan together, as a team.”  
They shared a look over the chessboard, Cullen concerned and Lavellan sad. She looked away first, a rueful smile blossoming on her face. “It’s better this way, I’m sure. The clan couldn’t have dealt with all the bickering. Plus, he snores. You all are much better.”  
“Have you been in contact since we drove off those bandits?” Cullen asked quietly, taking his turn.  
“A few letters, here and there. They’re well.” She studied the board carefully.  
Cullen sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“  
“No, please.” Lavellan looked up, smiling softly. “We’re both terrible at being in touch with family, you’ve just had more practice.”  
He chuckled. “That’s terrible, and not wrong.”  
They were quiet for a long moment, Lavellan making her move and Cullen considering, before he tipped his head.  
“Dorian said you rode a bear.”  
Lavellan burst out laughing. “Oh, Mythal preserve us, it was so much worse. So-“  
*  
Cullen tipped his king, smiling ruefully. “It looks like you’ve won this round, inquisitor.” She nodded, slowly looking up from the board. Cullen felt a warmth fill his chest. “I think this is the longest we’ve gone without discussing the inquisition.”  
She snorted. “I think you’re right. This was… nice. We should do this again. Soon.”  
His heart stopped beating for a moment, the corners of his mouth slowly turning up in a soft smile. “I’d like that.”  
“As would I.” She paused at the redundancy, blushing but not looking away.  
Elation surged in Cullen’s veins. She wanted to do this again. To sit tucked away in the corner of the garden, alone, talking about everything and nothing? If it wasn’t for the time he’d spent with Dorian, he would have thought this was a dream.  
“You said that.” He whispered wonderingly, watching the faint blush on her cheeks darken and daring, for a moment, to hope.


	4. Chapter 4

Lavellan strode through Josie’s office, heading for the war room. They’d just gotten back from the storm coast, she’d been unsaddling her horse when the page appeared next to her (she’d protested the immediate summons, trying to bargain ten minutes to wash up first from the sympathetic but unyielding page (they were all more scared of Leliana than Lavellan, and she was a little sour about it), but Blackwall had taken her bags and assured her they’d be in her room when she was done). She scowled, trying to smooth her salt-crusted hair down and ignore the residual squish of her boots.  
She’d given up on getting the darkspawn blood out of her clothes days ago.  
She glanced at Josephine’s empty desk as she passed it, sighing. It was hard to stay irritated with her advisors, with her team in general. When she’d been thrown into the middle of everything at Haven, she’d expected chasing rifts, she’d expected getting dragged into the shem’s political machinations, she’d expected facing down whoever blew up the conclave; she hadn’t expected her team to become her strange, mis-matched family.  
She hadn’t expected to care so much.  
So, if they wanted to pull her into a meeting before she could get the salt-spray and the road dust out of her clothes, it was forgivable. They were in the middle of a war, after all.  
The door to the war room opened with a groan and she surveyed her advisors with a warm smile.  
Josie and Leliana looked up from a report. Cassandra gave her a wan smile. Rylen, Cullen’s second in command, looked vaguely ill.  
She blinked, her smile faltering. “Where is Cullen?” She asked carefully.  
“The commander was feeling under the weather, he asked me to bring the reports for him.” Rylen explained, his back stick-straight.  
Cassandra stepped up next to her, setting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. Lavellan nodded, accepting the message in the gesture, and turned to Rylen. Her smile returned and she tipped her head.  
“Bring me up to speed, how are the troops? Did the march to Redcliff go smoothly?”  
A little color returned to Rylen’s face as he went down the reports, back on familiar ground.  
*  
The meeting did not take more than an hour. Rylen had dismissed himself after he’d gone through his reports, taking a couple of orders from Lavellan back to the barracks with him. The women went over everything else together, from the latest letters from the nobility to sealing off the darkspawn on the coast being a success. Josephine took notes, writing down orders to send out later in the afternoon.  
Cassandra wrinkled her nose as Leliana and Josephine put their heads together over managing a couple of nobles, looking to Lavellan and jerking her head towards the door. The two women didn’t notice Cassandra and Lavellan step out, too engrossed in the moving pieces of their dealings.  
Cassandra sighed as the door closed, looking at the elven woman. “It never ends.”  
Lavellan shook her head. “It really doesn’t.”  
“How was the coast?”  
“Damp. How was Skyhold?”  
“Carefully contained chaos. Cullen is alright.”  
Lavellan sighed, following Cassandra down the hall. “Then why was he not here?”  
Cassandra frowned, glancing around before leaning closer to Lavellan. “The withdrawls have been worse the last couple of days, he needed to rest.”  
Her heart ached in sympathy. She nodded slowly. “In your opinion…?”  
“He will be fine.” Cassandra’s voice was firm. “A day or two of rest and he will be right back to it.” She snorted softly. “And it is good practice for Rylen.”  
Lavellan chuckled, she was fond of Cullen’s right hand man. “How is he doing?”  
Cassandra tipped her head, smiling softly. “Well. He is not Cullen, but he is close. He’s organizing the group going to the Forbidden Oasis.”  
“You’re watching him?”  
“Of course. So far he has done fine. The commander cannot be in all places at once, Rylen leads well when he must.”  
The inquisitor nodded, pleased. She was simply glad Rylen was living up to his commanders exacting standards.  
Cassandra stopped before the door, clapping her on the shoulder. “The commander is in his rooms. I know you like to check up on us personally.” She chuckled. “You should wash up first, your braids are crusty.”  
“You don’t look much better coming back from the coast, you know.” Lavellan stuck her tongue out. “I could have already bathed, but someone insisted I come right away.” She dragged out the vowels in the words, her tone playful. Cassandra laughed.  
*  
True to his word, Blackwall had left her bags in a stack next to the stairs. Lavellan bathed quickly, climbing into the full tub and heating the water with a spell. Working the salt out of her hair took the most time. She dressed quickly, skipping over her usual clothes in favor of a dress she’d picked up from an elven family in the Hinterlands. It was simple and plain, and most importantly no one had seen her in it before. She forwent her usual braids, leaving her damp hair loose to dry in large, looping curls.  
She lit the fireplace, swinging the kettle she’d hung in it over the flames and fishing some herbs out of her closet while the water came to a boil. She hummed to herself as she crushed and mixed the plants, adding more elfroot than was strictly necessary. The dried, earthy smells filled her nose and left her a little homesick.  
She split the mix into three cloth pouches, tying them shut and dropping one into the bottom of a large mug. She poured the boiling water over it, not quite filling it, and set off downstairs. No one noticed her as she slid through the door, mug in hand. No one said anything as she stepped into the servants passageways.  
She sighed as she took the passages to the battlements, reflecting on how freeing it was to be able to disappear so easily and how disheartening it was that so many people simply stopped at her ears. It wasn’t like they didn’t know the inquisitor was an elf, but they still glossed over her people. At best. At worst… Well, ‘at worst’ wasn’t something to worry about in Skyhold, at least, and the elves that did work there had stopped panicking when they found her in the passageways. As long as people refused to look past her ears, she would use it to her advantage.  
But the race relations of Thedas weren’t what brought her through the hidden routes. She stopped in front of the door to Cullen’s office.  
Her brave commander. Formerly of the templar order and cutting the last of his ties to them by refusing to take lyrium. Lavellan supposed if she were a truly dedicated inquisitor she would insist he start taking it again, insist he didn’t put everything at risk by splitting his focus like this. Fen’harel would take her before she made him, though, and the dread wolf gnawing her bones would be bearable if only because it meant Cullen was still free.  
She pressed herself against the door, opening it soundlessly. His office was empty, the ladder to his room standing near the wall. She climbed one-handed, careful not to spill any of the still-steeping tea.  
She was not sure when she had begun to feel so strongly about him. In Haven, he had put himself between her and her decriers as much as he could, trying to give her time to build a strong base. He had been the one to pull her out of the snow after Haven, had promised that he would never let that happen again. Somewhere between his unflagging defense of her and their openness during their first chess match, her heart had started to pound when she thought of him.  
Not that she would tell him that. She was unsure of his feelings, if his occasional remark when they were alone or the smile he sometimes gave her was just her reading too much into things.  
Regardless, if he could be so stead-fast in defending her, then she could try to help ease his pain.  
She climbed off the ladder soundlessly, looking around. The room was sparsely furnished, a chest and wardrobe tucked against one wall, across from a bed flanked by tables and covered in blankets.  
The blankets shifted, emitting a groan. A soft, sympathetic smile blossomed on her lips as she made her way towards them.  
She set the mug and the remaining bags of tea on the table before sitting on the edge of the bed, gently laying a hand on the pile of blankets.  
“Commander.” She called. The blankets stilled. “Commander, are you awake?”  
Slowly, the edge of the blankets lowered and Cullen peered out at her. His eyes were glassy, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat. He squinted.  
“Who-“ His voice cracked. “How dare you come into my rooms unannounced, who sent you?”  
Lavellan paused for a moment, swallowing a snappy answer. He was much too ill to play games with, it would be unfair. “I sent myself.”  
He snorted. “Begone, I need nothing.”  
“No.” Lavellan reached for the mug. “Sit up, this will help.”  
“Have you come to poison me, then?” He sounded surprisingly calm. Lavellan looked at him, one eyebrow raised. He stared at her, his eyes not quite focusing.  
“Cullen.” Her voice was half-way between concern and amusement. “Truly, do you not recognize me?”  
He glared, staring intently at her face before suddenly blinking. “You.” He sat up carefully, the corners of his eyes tightening at the pain of moving. “No, this is a dream, then.”  
She chuckled. “Hardly. Drink this.” His hands shook as he took the mug and she wrapped her hands around his, helping hold him steady. He paused, looking from their hands to her face.  
“This is too kind to be my dream, perhaps I’ve wandered into yours.” He mumbled.  
Lavellan’s heart clenched and she smiled gently at him. “Drink.” He took a sip, wrinkling his nose.  
“This is terrible.” He grumbled.  
“See? If it were a dream, it would taste like ale. Keep drinking.” He followed her order, draining the mug and coughing.  
“That’s foul.” He lay back, scowling.  
Lavellan nodded, setting the mug back down. “Most things that are good for you are.”  
He chuckled, watching her. “When did you get back?”  
“A few hours ago. It was a success, we sealed the tunnels.”  
“Good. How is Rylen-“ He fell silent at her raised hand.  
“No. The only thing you should be worried about right now is yourself.”  
Cullen quieted, looking down at his hands. Lavellan hesitated before resting her hand over his, bringing his gaze back up to her.  
“How do you feel?” She asked softly.  
He sighed. “Everything hurts. I’m tired but I can’t sleep, my dreams are…” He glanced down, unwilling to finish the thought.  
She squeezed his hand. “The tea should kick in soon, the elfroot will help the pain. There’s a mix we use for dreamless sleep, I took the liberty of adding it for you.” She looked abashed for a moment before he nodded gratefully.  
“Thank you. Will you stay?”  
“Of course. When you wake, there’s two more doses of tea if you need them. I’ll keep checking on you, we’re back for a few days.”  
“You are the inquisitor, you shouldn’t be caring for an invalid.”  
“I was a First, this is what I was trained for.”  
“You need to be running things.”  
“I think Josie and Leliana like it more when I’m not in the way of the day to day.”  
He flushed, his voice quieter. “I hate that you’re seeing me like this.”  
“I’m glad to be able to help.” She squeezed his hand again. “I won’t tell anyone I saw you like this, if you don’t tell anyone you saw me like this.”  
He snorted, lifting a hand and twining it in her hair. His fever-bright eyes were half-closed as the tea began to take effect. “What are you talking about, you look beautiful. I like your hair down.”  
Lavellan turned bright red, unable to form a response. Cullen’s arm fell back to the bed and he tipped his head back.  
“Are you sure this isn’t a dream?” He asked softly.  
“I’m sure.”  
“I feel like I’m floating.”  
She chuckled softly, shoving her confusion and hope down in favor of taking care of him. “Lay back, the tea’s kicking in.”  
“What did you put in it?” He slid back down the bed, looking up at her with eyes that refused to stay open.  
“A lot of things, I’ll show you when you feel better. For now, you need rest.”  
He hummed, fluttering his eyes back open. “I don’t want to fall asleep while I’m dreaming, I don’t know what will happen.”  
“I’ll watch over you.”  
He chuckled softly, finally closing his eyes. “Good.” He whispered.  
Lavellan hesitated for a moment before clearing her throat and starting to sing softly. It sounded strange to her ears, she hadn’t sung since leaving her clan and the sound of her voice by itself was always startling.  
Still, Cullen’s brow smoothed at the sound, a small smile pulling up the corners of his lips.  
“-Ara ma’athlan vhenas.” She finished, some time later. Cullen was soundly asleep, finally looking peaceful if still a little feverish.  
Lavellan smiled softly, watching the rise and fall of his chest. She sat with him for a long while, not thinking about the inquisition or the long road ahead of them or how much her chest ached as she looked at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen translation:  
> "ara ma’athlan vhenas": I will call you home; the last line of Mir Da'len Somniar, a traditional Dalish lullaby.


	5. Chapter 5

Lieutenant Jack Rhinenan, Forder to most who knew him, had been with the inquisition since Haven. Since the invasion, and subsequent evacuation, that had nearly cost him his life, he had poured himself into making sure Skyhold would not suffer the same fate. Between training new recruits and volunteering the off hours he could with the repair teams (commander Cullen had instituted a rule about how many hours you could volunteer, he didn’t want his men over-working themselves and Forder had to respect that), it was only a matter of time before he caught the notice of his higher-ups. Before long the Ferelden farm-hand found himself promoted to lieutenant. His unflappable nature earned him the duty of delivering Leliana’s reports to the commander, he was just as terrified of the spymaster as everyone else but he knew how to hide it (he thought he did, at any rate. Leliana knew, and amused herself with periodically seeing if she could get him to crack). The other lieutenants were only too happy to give him the job.  
He glanced at the report in his hands, making his way across the bridge to the commander’s office. Leliana had been subdued today, meeting him at the desk instead of stepping out of the shadows with a quip aimed to startle him. It never boded well when the spymaster was so lost in her thoughts, and he felt some concern.  
When knocking briskly on the commander’s door yielded no response he pushed it open a crack, announcing himself loudly before stepping in.  
The office was empty. Forder sighed, rubbing his face. The commander had specifically requested that this report make its way to him as soon as it arrived, Leliana’s notes on the front were hastily scrawled (a sure sign that she’d been hurrying to get it out). He glanced at it again, something about her men chasing venatori in the mountains.  
He blinked, processing the information. Of all the times for the commander to be absent his usual post, of course it would be now.  
Forder strode into the middle of the office, looking between the two other doors. He picked one, heading out onto the battlements, and was rewarded with the familiar sight of the commander’s giant coat. He smiled, satisfied, and reviewed the report as he made his way to the commander.  
When his salutation didn’t elicit the usual response, he looked up from the report. Cullen was there, staring at him. The inquisitor (Maker bless her Dalish soul) was standing beside him, which was fortuitous. He knew she’d be interested in the updates. Forder rustled the papers in his hands, trying to make them more obvious.  
“The report from Leliana, you asked me to bring it to you immediately?” Forder blinked. Cullen said something, his tone exasperated, but Forder didn’t hear it.  
The inquisitor was standing next to Cullen, carefully looking away from him. He could still see the faint tinge of pink on her cheek. The commander (who was standing awfully close to her, and why was she backed against the wall?) was scowling at him and… was he faintly growling?  
Forder’s stomach landed somewhere in his boots as understanding dawned.  
“Your office!” He called, too loudly. “Right, I’ll leave them in your office! I-“ He turned and fled, throwing himself back through the door and carefully peering around the edge of it.  
If he went to Varric and he wasn’t absolutely, 100-percent sure that the betting pool had just closed, he was liable to be on the next patrol to the Fallow Mire.  
*  
The lieutenants words had pulled Lavellan back down from her cloud and she couldn't quite bring herself to look back at Cullen.  
This was madness. The former templar, former second to Kirkwall's knight-commander, commander of the inquisition, and a Dalish mage with a fade-anchor in her hand? It was the plot to one of Varric's books, and not one of the good ones. This couldn't work, couldn't even really be happening. Cullen was only standing so close to keep their voices down, so they wouldn't be embarrassed (more embarrassed, any way) when he pointed out the myriad of ways this wouldn't work.  
The door to Cullen's office creaked and Lavellan turned back to her commander, sighing and steeling herself for the conversation to come.  
"If you need to take care of-" She started. Cullen's lips on hers cut her off, rendering her silent in surprise. She pressed herself against him, eyes closing in pleasure, and he pulled back much too soon.  
Cullen's face was flushed, a sweet smile blooming on his lips. He stared down at Lavellan, a look somewhere between wonder and concern on his face.  
"Was that..." He cleared his throat, glancing down. "Was that okay?"  
Lavellan tipped her head, gathering what was left of her wits. "Yes, but I'm confused." Cullen looked a little more concerned. "It happened so fast. I thought it was a kiss, but I can't be sure..."  
Cullen laughed, leaning closer as Lavellan twined her fingers in his hair and pulled herself closer to kiss him again. She sighed, pressing herself against him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist.  
Neither of them heard the door to his office close, nor the muffled shouts emanating from within.  
*  
Cullen looked up as the door to the War Room opened, a giddy smile forming on his face as the inquisitor strode in. She looked to him, a broad smile forming on her face.  
"Inquisitor!" Josephine called, amusement evident in her voice. "We've been waiting for you."  
"Some of us more eagerly than others." The laugh in Leliana's voice was barely contained and Cullen whirled to scowl at the spymaster. Leliana gave him a cheerful grin.  
"Yes, well." He grumbled, blushing. "Let's get on with things then."  
When he turned back, Levallen was at the table, smiling fondly up at him. He could feel the ambassador and spymaster radiating delight and he sighed, smiling softly. Seeing Lavellan look at him like that was worth all the teasing he'd be getting later.  
*  
There was a meeting taking place at the tavern.  
The inquisitor's companions, half the Charger's and a fair few townsfolk were arrayed in the back around a table covered in coin and ales. Varric took a long drink, consulting a thick ledger.  
"Harding, Bull, Stitches, Vivienne, Leliana and Cassandra all had eight months." He finally pronounced, looking up. "We'll split the winnings six ways and have them delivered this evening."  
"Are we sure?" Adan leaned on the table, frowning. "I mean, are we really sure they've finally figured it out?"  
Forder nodded, a grin forming on his face. "I swear, I saw it. They kissed on the battlements." He shook his head at Adan's disbelieving look. "What, do you think I'd come back without making absolutely sure?"  
Adan raised an eyebrow and Forder gestured to the assembled group. "I would never be allowed back from the Fallow Mire if I was wrong."  
Cassandra nodded, her face neutral. "It's true." Forder paled.  
Bull chuckled, raising his tankard. "To those two, for finally figuring it out." There was a general noise of agreement and everyone took a long pull of their drinks.  
"So." Varric grinned. "Shall we start another pool for how long it takes them to tell us about this?"  
"Six more months, easily." Harding tipped her chair back, grinning.  
"They'll be crowing it from the rooftops in a week." Dorian chuckled.  
"They'll be too shy to move that fast, at least another year." Vivienne countered.  
"You're all on." Bull laughed. "I give them another eight months."  
Varric chuckled, grabbing his quill and flipping to a clean page. They weren't the gang from Kirkwall, but they were starting to grow on him. Without realizing, he began to smile.


	6. Chapter 6

Lavellan blinked slowly, looking around. The buildings around her seemed so familiar, but they couldn't be what she thought they were. Slowly, looking around, she made her way up well worn stairs, stopping in front of the fire pit she knew would be there. Unsure and tense, she looked around her at Haven made whole again, and felt a small pang in her heart.  
Someone cleared their throat behind her and she whirled, reaching for a staff that wasn't attached to her back. Solas smiled, holding his hands up in a reassuring motion.  
"Aneth ara, lethallen." He inclined his head.  
Lavellan laughed, smiling faintly. "If you are here, then being back in Haven does not seem so strange."  
Solas chuckled, extending his arm and the inquisitor linked hers with it. He lead up her up the stairs to the chantry, turning to look out over Haven and the breach that still hung in the sky.  
"You know, I'd resigned myself to failure?" He looked over at the elvhen woman next to him. "I'd tried everything, and then you appeared and sealed them with a wave of your hand." He shook his head, smiling. "I knew then that you would change the world."  
Lavellan sighed, smiling ruefully up at the crackling green hole. "I just wanted to protect my clan, my people."  
"You have, them and all of Thedas." Solas glanced at her, then away. "You... impress me."  
She gently squeezed his arm, leaning closer to him. "You impress me too, dream-walker. You are a good friend, I am glad to have you."  
Solas colored faintly, looking pleased. "You are a force to be reckoned with, lethallen. I cannot regain my footing around you, even here."  
"Ir Lavellan." She laughed. "No more, no less."  
He shook his head, a fond smile curling his lips. "You bring your clan great pride, you know. A Dalish inquisitor, you mean much to your people."  
She nudged his shoulder with hers. "Would that they were our people."  
Solas's blush deepened. "I am not of the Dalish, you kn-"  
"You were born in ruins." Lavellan untangled her arm, dancing back from him as her voice took a gently teasing note. "Raised by spirits in the Fade, who sang songs of those lost long ago. You know the shape of the world that was and eschew the world that is, somniari."  
He rolled his eyes, following after her. "I do not eschew the world that is, I know more of shem politics than you do."  
She flashed him a grin, heading towards the lower level of Haven to walk the streets again. "I am at the epicenter of shem politics, for the moment."  
"Which makes it all the harder for you to keep abreast of it." Solas sighed as Lavellan shrugged.  
"That's why I have you, lethallin, and my advisers." She shot him a grin, following the twisting streets.  
"You are lucky in that, Lavellan." Solas paused, smiling. "I look forward to seeing what you do."  
Lavellan gave a bark of laughter. "What else, save the world."  
"And I look forward to seeing it."  
She finally paused, back at the fire pit, and turned to Solas. "How are we here?"  
A slow smile spread across his face. "We shouldn't be. At least, you shouldn't be, even in sleep. But then, you are a force of nature and this is how this place works. It changes depending on you."  
Lavellan furrowed her brow. "That only applies to the fade..."  
"Yes, it does." Solas gently rested a hand on her shoulder. "Wake up."  
Lavellan shot bolt upright in bed, gasping and looking around wildly. The familiar hangings of her bed, the view of the night sky out the windows, greeted her. She sat there, breathing heavily, for a long while.  
*  
Lavellan sighed, pacing the battlements, unable to sleep.  
A steady wind came up from the lake, chill and enough to ruffle Lavellan's tunic without trying to blow her over. Her bare feet padded silently across the stone and she tipped her head, listening to the night as much as to her thoughts. She neared the tavern, listening to the music and voices drifting up from open windows before turning to walk back the way she'd come.  
"The smell of the wind in the trees, the upturned earth. Birdsong, bug-song, thump of halla's feet. A flash of color between the trees that makes no sound, but you make no sound either. Falling to the ground, laughing, you've caught him before he caught you. Clan brother, blood-brother." Cole spoke up softly, making her jump. "He has your face."  
Lavellan closed her eyes tightly. "Cole."  
"You miss him."  
"I do."  
"You miss your family."  
"I do." Lavellan whispered. Cole hopped off the wall of the battlements, walking to stand next to her.  
"But we're your family, too." Cole tipped his head, looking up at her. Lavellan nodded. "How do you have two families?"  
"They're the family I was given. You're the family I chose." Lavellan sighed, smiling faintly. Cole considered this for a long moment.  
"Are you my family, too, then?" He finally asked.  
"We are if you want us to be." Lavellan reached out, resting a hand on the spirit-made-flesh. "I know Varric thinks of you as family, Solas too."  
"Vivienne doesn't like me." He said softly.  
"Vivienne just needs to get to know you better." She squeezed his shoulder.  
Cole nodded slowly. "You can't sleep."  
Lavellan shook her head. Cole looked up at her, curious.  
"You dream of the envy demon. It's dead."  
"I know." Lavellan said softly. "I know, we killed it."  
"But you still fear it?"  
"I fear what would happen if it had succeeded."  
"It didn't."  
"What if it had?"  
"Then it would not be your concern, you would be dead." Cole reached out, touching the inquisitor. "Do you understand that dead is dead, it can't hurt you now?"  
Lavellan laughed softly, nodding and leading the way further down the battlement. Cole walked alongside her. They were silent for a time.  
"He is quiet, you know. A shield, covered in broken chains, strong and proud and trying to find the shape of himself, now." Cole shook his head. "He doesn't know his shape, anymore, too much has changed. Is changing." Cole looked up at her, blinking. "There is a tightness in his chest."  
Lavellan tipped her head, watching the spirit-who-is-a-boy. "Does it hurt him, this tightness?"  
"It used to. He used to think it would kill him." Cole shook his head. "It's better now, though, brings him hope."  
Lavellan nodded slowly. "Who, Cole?"  
"Your bear." He looked up at her, puzzled that she didn't already know.  
"My... bear?" She blinked.  
"Your shield, your bear, your..." Cole sighed, searching for the words. "There is a breeze in your hair, the door closes. He tastes the way you imagined; smokey and warm and sweet. His hands on your-"  
"Cullen!" Lavellen threw her hands up, blushing furiously, desperate to stop Cole. "I get it, I get it! I- Wait." Lavellan turned to the spirit-boy, but he was already gone.  
She wrapped her arms around herself, looking from the space he had been out into the night, Cole's words swirling in her head.  
She sighed, resuming her walk.  
*  
Cullen closed the door to the war room, cutting off the sound of Josie and Leliana laughing. He turned to Lavellan, a slow smile on his lips, and offered her his arm. She took it, pulling herself closer than was entirely necessary. Cullen set a slow pace down the hall, alternating between watching their step and shooting her fond looks.  
“You are ready to leave for the Plains?” He asked softly.  
“Dirthavaren.” She nodded, smiling faintly at his raised eyebrow. “The Promise. It was ours first.”  
“Dirth-haven?” He tried, haltingly.  
“Dirthavaren.” She corrected.  
“Dirth-have-aren.” He tried again. Lavellan patted his arm, smiling.  
“Better.”  
“Ma serranas.” He grinned.  
She laughed, beaming up at him. “You’ve been practicing!”  
“Of course I have.” His smile gentled to one less of pride and more of affection. “You never answered my question.”  
“We leave as soon as I get to the stables, Cassandra was readying my hart during the council.” Cullen glanced down, sadly. “I will be back before you know it.”  
He hummed softly, nodding. “Just… be safe.”  
“I always come back.” Lavellan stretched up on her toes, pressing a kiss to her commander’s cheek. “Someone has to keep the three of you out of trouble. I am almost beginning to enjoy it.” She grinned playfully up at him, disentangling herself from his arm to pull open the door to Josie’s office.  
Her team was waiting near the fire. Varric had settled into one of the chairs, his glasses half-way down his nose as he reviewed a scroll. Cassandra was standing before the fire, swinging her attention from the flames to the newcomers with a small smile. Solas was leaning against the wall, continuing to stare into the flames contemplatively.  
“Inquisitor, commander.” Cassandra nodded to each in turn before turning back to Lavellan. “Your hart is ready.” Varric gave the two of them a sideways glance, a grin forming on his face, before he stood and tucked his glasses back into a pocket.  
Lavellan nodded. “Thank you.” She turned to Cullen, trying and failing to hide the tinge of sadness in her gentle smile. “Thank you, commander.”  
He dipped his head, failing as well. “Of course. Safe travels, vhenan.”  
Lavellan turned an interesting shade of red, staring at Cullen in surprise. He gave her a gentle, smug smile.  
Whatever she was going to say in response was halted by the sudden stillness by the fire. Solas stared at them for a moment before stalking towards them.  
“Delltash, ma las shemlen dirth Elvhan? Ir theneras!” Solas’ voice rose as he got closer, startled anger coloring his words.  
Lavellan stiffened, her eyes narrowing as she turned to him. All her excitement, the butterflies in her stomach at Cullen’s choice in words (where had he learned it? She certainly hadn’t taught him that one), dimmed at Solas’ tone.  
“Tel’abelas.” Her voice was firm, her shoulders locking as she stepped towards him, putting herself between him and Cullen.  
“Ma shemlen? Fenedhis! Ma banal las halamshir var vhen.” He nearly spat the words at her. She blinked, shocked and hurt.  
“Ir in lath.” She swung an arm wide in a broad, angry gesture. Solas paled before making a terrible sound, running a hand over his rapidly-reddening face.  
“Dirthara-ma! Ar hellathen gilhana-“  
“She’va dhal! Ma solasan-“  
The two elves began yelling at the same time, gesturing wildly, faces flushing a wild pink. Lavellan closed the distance between them, putting herself nearly boot tip to boot tip with Solas.  
Cullen and Cassandra watched them with increasing concern, and more than a little guilt for Cullen. He took a step forward, trying to find a break in the whirling elvish to interrupt them. Varric crossed the distance to him quickly, grabbing his sleeve.  
“Naw, Curly, I don’t really think that’s the best idea.” He watched the elves for a moment, shaking his head. “They’ll work it out. Come on, Seeker.” He looked to Cassandra, tipping his head towards the door.  
Cassandra and Cullen followed the dwarf out of Josie’s office, shooting anxious glances over their shoulders.  
As they stepped outside onto the stairs Cassandra finally sighed.  
“Where are we going, Varric?” She asked.  
“You.” He turned, pointing to her. “Are going to go unsaddle Solas’ hart, and get Dorian’s horse ready to go. You.” He pointed to Cullen. “Are going to tell Dorian to get packed, we leave as soon as Lavellan hits the stables.”  
Varric smothered a sigh at Cassandra’s raised eyebrow. “You think Solas is coming with us after that little show?” He shook his head. “We have a schedule to keep, and Sparkler’ll help calm her down. Trust me.”  
She raised her hands, nodding. “Your plan is sound, I will get the horse. But what are you going to do?”  
“I’m going to get a stiff drink. This is going to be a long trip.”  
Cassandra chuckled as she walked down the stairs. Cullen turned to head for the library but Varric grabbing his sleeve again brought him up short.  
“Maybe give Solas some space for a bit, yea?” The dwarf gave him a look that was somewhere between amusement and reprimand.  
“I didn’t realize he would-“ Cullen gestured, unable to find the words.  
“Oh, no, the Elvhen purist scholar would never be upset about a human calling the Elvhen inquisitor that, in front of him.” Varric rolled his eyes. “I taught you that word to be cute, not to cause our elves to fight to the death on Josie’s rug.”  
Cullen looked abashed, and Varric sighed as he patted the taller man on the arm.  
“You know she loved it, right?” Varric asked gently and Cullen nodded. “Next time, use it when you’re alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen translations:  
> "Aneth ara, lethallen": Hello, my friend  
> "Ir Lavellan": I am Lavellan  
> "Somniari": Dreamer  
> *  
> "Ma serranas": Thank you  
> "Vhenan": Heart  
> "Delltash, ma las shemlen dirth Elvhan? Ir theneras!": (swear), you taught a human to speak elvish? I must be dreaming.  
> "Tel’abelas": I’m not sorry  
> "Ma shemlen? Fenedhis! Ma banal las halamshir var vhen.": A human? (swear) You do nothing to further our people.  
> "Ir in lath": I’m in love.  
> "Dirthara-ma! Ar hellathen gilhana-": May you learn! My noble quest to guide-  
> "She’va dhal, ma solasan-": (swear), your prideful place-


	7. Chapter 7

Lavellan walked soundlessly through the forest, delighting in the occasional signs of her people and the smell of the trees. Sera stepped soundlessly when she wanted to, mostly she made as much noise as she could in protest of Lavellan stopping at every elven statue they passed. The sound had already attracted three bears.  
Cole and Blackwell brought up the rear, the warden periodically shooting a glance at the boy. Cole seemed in his own world, looking around them but not seeming to focus on anything.  
They travelled without speaking, trying to listen for anything beyond Sera's crashing footsteps.  
The blonde archer sighed in disgust as Lavellan stopped at another statue, tipping her head back and beginning to form a curse. Cole's words cut her off.  
"Golden, glittering. Not what's over her, but her, she glitters. A treasure beyond dreams." He was looking at Blackwall curiously.  
The warden frowned. "What are you on about?"  
"Floats by, rustle of silks, breath of perfume. Can't breathe, drowning in-"  
"That's quite enough of that!" Blackwell cut him off, beginning to blush. Sera looked positively delighted.  
"Do you want to know what she thinks of you?" Cole tipped his head. Blackwell's blush deepened.  
"No." He snapped.  
Cole shrugged, taking a few steps forward, inspecting the statue Lavellan had stopped next to.  
"I would like to know." Sera raised her hand. "Can I know?"  
"Not for you." Cole shook his head and Sera let out a terrible groan before rounding on Blackwell.  
"Who issat, then?" She demanded. "Treasure, glitter, silks, perfume, can't be many of us can it?"  
"I don't want-" Blackwell raised his hands, warding her off.  
"Vivienne, but she's just plain scary." Sera shook her head.  
"She's involved, Blackwell wouldn't interfere in that." Lavellan piped up. Blackwell shot her a grateful look.  
"Not us, then." Sera gestured to herself and Lavellan. "Cassandra's all leather and grr." She hesitated, racking her brain.  
"Leliana can't wear perfume, it'd be a give-away." Blackwell shot Lavellan a betrayed look as she joined in the guessing.  
The two elves locked eyes for a second, Sera becoming excited and Lavellan's eyes widening.  
"You don't-" "It has to-" They started at the same time.  
"Ladies-" Blackwell tried desperately to stop them but they whirled on him as one.  
"How long? Does she know?" They squealed. Blackwell hid his face in his hands, sighing heavily. "Do you want us to-"  
"No!" He shouted, cutting them off. "Maker's breath, I don't want her to know! We... We're saving the world, she doesn't have time for..." He trailed off, sighing. "Come on, the map says we're nearly to the bridge."  
He took off down the trail, Cole following a few paces behind. Sera and Lavellan looked at each other, silent, before following after.  
*  
Lavellan crawled out on the roof, basket of cookies in tow. Sera looked up from contemplating the roofs of Skyhold, raising an eyebrow.  
"They've got wee candies baked in, special from Orlais." Lavellan passed her the basket, settling herself on the roof.  
"All fancy then, aye?" Sera snorted, fishing a cookie out.  
"If they're going to send us bribes, we may as well make the most of it." Lavellan shrugged, grabbing a cookie. Sera snorted again.  
They sat in silence for a moment before Sera let out a groan. "That sappy sodding warden is never going to tell Josie."  
Lavellan nodded. "He's the 'suffer in silence' type."  
Sera huffed. "Bloody stupid, is what it is."  
"You know, Josie finds him quite dashing." Lavellan traced the battlements with her eyes. "Says he's noble and brave."  
Sera smothered a laugh. "She don't share a tent with him, not so noble when he's snoring loud enough to wake a dragon." Lavellan chuckled. "You ever get that spooky spirit to tell you what Josie thinks?"  
"His name is Cole, and he won't tell me."  
"But you think it's good, yea? Or he wouldn't have brought it up?" Lavellan shrugged. "Noble and dashing's awful like those books Varric writes, hey?"  
"Even if it is, neither of them is going to do anything about it."  
"Then we do something for them!" Sera crowed, kicking her feet and laughing.  
Lavellan sighed, trying to form an argument and failing.  
*  
Lavellan shot down the first five ideas Sera suggested, but they agreed on a compromise for the sixth.  
They gathered Skyhold's children in the garden, picking Lavellan's carefully curated flowers and demonstrating how to weave them together into crowns. Sera stayed long enough to see them settled before racing for the stables to fetch Blackwell (if he'd follow anyone, it'd be Sera; the brash woman was growing on him and he'd begun to treat her almost as he would a sister).  
It didn't take her long to return, warden in tow, trilling like a particularly crass bird. She was telling some terrible joke and Blackwell was laughing, but the sight of the garden brought him up short.  
"What..." He started, bemused.  
"It's flowers, innit? Bit daft, I think, but her royal high elfiness says it's good fun and if I have to muck about getting green on my hands then so d'you."  
Blackwell chuckled, following Sera further into the gaggle of children. Lavellan was sitting with her back to the map stone, carefully braiding some embarium together, surrounded by children imitating her motions to various degrees of success. Lavellan was offering corrections where she could.  
Sera wandered, gathering a fistful of different flowers, and Blackwell imitated her, still looking not quite at ease. He sat stiff-backed along the edge of the ring of children, watching Lavellan's hands nervously.  
One of the little girls leaned over, holding out part of her garland. "You join it here to start, see?" She smiled up at the warden.  
Blackwell blinked, looking closer. "You mean like this?" Blackwell tried to recreate the shape and she nodded.  
"Good! Now it's just braiding." She returned to her own work, but kept glancing over to make sure the warden was progressing alright.  
Sera had already braided a good foot of the flowers together. Blackwell raised an eyebrow at her.  
"It's bloody daft." She huffed. "'Course I'm good at somethin' daft." Lavellan laughed, grinning at her.  
A couple of the faster children donned their finished crowns before walking over to Blackwell, hands full of smaller flowers.  
"Lord warden ser." The bravest of them greeted him. "May we braid flowers in your beard?"  
Blackwell blinked, at a loss, and turned to Sera. Sera grinned, her eyes lighting up. "Yes." She positively crowed.  
"I- yes, you may." Blackwell continued to braid the garland resting in his lap, tucking his elbows in a little closer so the trio could reach his beard. He moved his head when they requested, making it easier to reach.  
Lavellan stood, donning her embarium and elf root crown, gesturing to a scout and whispering something to them before making her way through the assembled group to inspect and compliment everyone's work. The more rambunctious children wrapped themselves in their garlands or put on their crowns and ran to play tag in the more open part of the garden.  
A little boy, no more than ten, shyly sidled up to Lavellan, clutching a large crown. The inquisitor knelt, looking it over and smiling.  
"This is much too large for you." She ruffled his hair and he laughed. "Who have you made this for?"  
"The Iron Bull." He said softly. "Will you give it to him?"  
Lavellan tipped her head, eyes twinkling. "No, because you're going to." The boy's eyes widened as she motioned another scout over, asking him to tell Bull he was needed.  
The boy followed her back to her place next to the stone and she gathered the flowers to start a second crown.  
Sera was already wearing two, brightly colored and both cocked at jaunty angles, and had started a third. Blackwell put the finishing twist on his, looking down to admire the multitude of flowers worked into his beard.  
"Do you like it?" The trio chorused.  
He nodded. "It is very well done, thank you." They beamed, taking a moment to bask in the finished job before running to join the game of tag.  
Josephine's laughter, originating from behind him, caught Blackwell by surprise. He blushed, turning to regard the ambassador. She was looking around the garden with barely restrained delight.  
"Oh, this is lovely! I haven't seen a flower crown since Yvette and I were little!" She grinned.  
"Then you must join us, pick any flowers you like!" Lavellan called, plucking another embarium.  
"I never was any good at them." Josie chuckled ruefully. "Yvette would end up making mine."  
Blackwell stood, carefully, and extended the crown he was holding with a small bow. "Then please do me the honor of wearing my crown, lady Montilyet." He gave her a playful smile. "I fear the colors I picked would clash with my beard."  
They were both blushing terribly as she accepted, carefully placing the crown on her hair. It sat perfectly, vibrant and beautiful.  
"Thank you, Blackwell." She curtsied.  
Sera, now decked in three crowns, shared a glance with Lavellan, grinning.  
A bellow of amusement redirected their attentions back towards the entrance as Bull strode in.  
"I heard I was needed, but this isn't what I was imagining!" He chuckled, walking towards the group. The boy next to Lavellan was looking up at him with wide eyes.  
The qunari made his way to the inquisitor, grinning more broadly as he looked around. "A worthy sacrifice of your garden, how can I help?"  
Lavellan nudged the boy, who blushed and slowly stood. He held out the crown, not quite looking Bull in the eye. "I made this for you." The words tumbled out of him.  
Bull's face softened as he blinked, then he grinned broadly enough to light up half of Thedas. "For me?"  
"Yesser, The Bull, ser." He blushed.  
"Thank you. What is your name?" Bull's voice was soft.  
"Rayn." The boy mumbled.  
"Do you want to put it on me, Rayn? I don't think I can reach."  
The boy blinked, confused, and Bull scooped him up, holding him over his head so Rayn could set the crown on him. The boy shrieked, laughing, and tried to set the crown on him before giving up and hanging it from one of his horns. Lavellan was nearly in tears from laughing.  
Bull set him down, looking at him solemnly. "How does it look?"  
Rayn gave him a thumbs up and Bull grinned.  
The qunari carefully sat down, picking up a handful of flowers. "Will you show me how to make these?"  
Rayn nodded, grabbing a pair of stems and narrating his steps. Lavellan watched the pair of them, smiling fondly, before looking up.  
Sera was covered in crowns, Blackwell and Josie were gone. Lavellan blinked.  
"Snuck out while Bull was throwing the wee one around." Sera supplied, shrugging.  
"Together?" Lavellan grinned at Sera's nod. She stood, stretching, and tucked the crown over her arm.  
A group of children materialized in front of her, all holding crowns. Lavellan blinked.  
"We want to give our crowns to the 'quisition too." Their leader stated, firmly. Lavellan laughed.  
"Well, alright then. Sisters?" She looked to the chantry sisters, eyebrows raised in a silent question. Three of them stepped forward, sighing.  
"Form an orderly line and follow the inquisitor." One of them, Sister Elian, stepped up next to Lavellan and stared levelly at her charges. They shuffled together, looking up at her. Sister Elian turned to Lavellan, smiling.  
Sera materialized at her elbow, covered in flowers. "I'm staying here, yea? Fun walking all over Skyhold, but I want to see if-" she pointed to Rayn, "-gets to ride on Tiny's horns."  
Lavellan snorted. "Fair. I'm off then, we've crowns to deliver."  
The march through Skyhold went surprisingly smoothly, everyone followed along and while they fell over each other in the presence of their intended recipients they behaved everywhere else.  
Cassandra was first, blushing and caught off-guard she knelt for the crown to be placed on her head. Then came Varric, who managed a whole speech in his bemusement. Solas was startled, then flattered, and gave a quick lesson on flowers in the fade. Dorian was flustered but recovered quickly, preening and fidgeting with his crown to get it just so. Vivienne was all praise and courtly gestures, but Lavellan caught her watching her reflection and smiling softly as the children filed out.  
A spindly, awkward girl stopped Lavellan by the stairs leading to the scouts tower, refusing to look up from her feet.  
"It's for her ladyship, your spymaster." Her voice was barely audible. Lavellan bid the chantry sisters to head back without them, they'd only be a moment.  
The inquisitor took the stairs two at a time, the girl following at a much more sedate pace.  
"Leliana, you have a visitor." Lavellan called, loud enough to disrupt the birds. Leliana looked up, raising an eyebrow at Lavellan's crowns. Her eyebrows arched higher at the sight of the girl. The spymaster stepped out from behind her desk, slowly walking towards them.  
"To what do I owe this visit, then?" Her voice was light, genuinely surprised.  
The girl held the crown out, looking up at the redhead and smiling faintly. Leliana blinked.  
"My family was in Lothering." The girl supplied. "You spoke to my father, when you arrived. We left town that night, we survived."  
Leliana blinked again, her face softening. Lavellan looked away as Leliana accepted the crown, carefully ignoring the tears she'd seen glittering in both women's eyes.  
She led the girl back downstairs after a long moment, regaining the chantry group in the lower courtyard. Lavellan bid them farewell in the garden (where Bull and Krem, both wearing crowns, were showing Rayn how to grip a sword and one of the chantry sisters was slowly paling).  
One of the boys caught the edge of Lavellan's tunic, bringing her up short, and held a crown out to her. "I made this for someone, but I can't remember who." He frowned.  
Lavellan ruffled his hair, chuckling and taking the crown. "I know who." He lit up, thanking her and racing to rejoin his friends.  
Lavellan swung through the tavern, leaving the crown on Cole's table before heading to the battlements. She slipped into Cullen's office soundlessly, smiling at the sight of the commander bent over his paperwork.  
"That is terrible for your back, good ser bear." She called teasingly. Cullen jumped, exclaiming.  
"How do you do that?" He gasped. "And where did 'ser bear' come from?"  
Lavellan shrugged, striding towards him. "I've brought you something."  
He raised an eyebrow, noticing the crowns. "Where have you been?"  
"Gardens." She held the second crown out, looking none the worse for its trek around Skyhold.  
He blushed, coming around his desk to inspect it. "It matches yours."  
She smiled as he knelt in front of her, bowing his head so she could set it on him. He stood carefully, readjusting the balance, and gave her a shy smile.  
"Did you make these?" She nodded and his blush deepened. "They're very well woven. My sisters used to make them, but they were never so..."  
Lavellan nodded. "I made a lot of them, as a child."  
"Would you teach me?"  
"Of course."  
He smiled, then turned his eyes upward in an attempt to glimpse the edge of the crown. "How does it look?"  
"Dashing." Lavellan stepped forward, playfully kissing him.  
He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close.  
*  
The door to Josephine's office swung open and Lavellan made her way inside, reading the report in her hands.  
"Josie, I don't know who Lord Terrin thinks he is, but do we really have the soldiers to spare to resolve a border dispute right now?" She called, stopping near the chairs set in front of the fire. "Is this one of those 'I want the inquisition to fix it because then it looks like we're friends' things?"  
Lavellan looked up when an answer was not immediately forthcoming. She blinked, registering Blackwell and Josie standing awfully close together behind her desk, both of them red-faced, and dropped the report on the chair.  
Lavellan spun on her heel and headed for the door she'd just come in. "Right, well, whatever you decide is best, I trust you. Just let me know." The door shut with a whump behind her and she leaned against the wall, grinning.


End file.
